


Skillet

by IJM



Category: General Hospital
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IJM/pseuds/IJM
Summary: Trina the morning after her father died.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Skillet

Trina Robinson rolled her eyes when she heard music blaring from the upstairs of the Webber-Baldwin household. Cam _would_ have a speaker in the shower. She sat on the couch, feeling as cold as the wintry wind blowing outside. Because her mother was at a medical conference in Australia, she would not be home for another 28 hours. Even though she booked the first flight back, the trip itself was incredibly long.

She felt like she was stuck in a weird dream. Last night, she was going to the winter formal with Cameron. Yesterday, her dad was healthy and vibrant and smart and honorable. Last week, he was visiting Port Charles and staying with her and her mom. Today, she was wearing Cameron’s clothes because she had spent the night here since she had no one to go home to. She didn’t want to go by her house to get any essentials. Elizabeth Baldwin was such a tiny woman, none of her clothes fit Trina, even though Trina herself was in great physical shape. She slept in Cameron’s bed while he slept on the couch.

Trina had barely slept. She closed her eyes and pretended she was asleep every time Elizabeth opened the door to peek in on her. She knew Elizabeth was checking to see if she was okay or if she needed to talk. But Trina didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want to feel anything. If Elizabeth thought she was asleep, she would be left alone.

Trina insisted that Franco and Elizabeth go to work as they usually would have that morning. In response to their protests, she said she needed space. She and Cameron were both taking the day off from school. Elizabeth explained the situation to the principal and their absences would be excused. She was glad that Joss and Dev were stuck at school because she didn’t want to deal with them either. She didn’t want them to look at her with pity or like they cared—the way Cameron, Elizabeth, and Franco did. She had not seen Aiden or Jake because she refused to come downstairs until after they left for school.

Trina appreciated that she had had a place to spend the night and there had been people around who cared and were willing to help her. But she wanted her mom to come home. Better yet, she wanted her dad to show up and say that his “death” was an elaborate ruse to catch a bad guy. But it wasn’t a ruse. She had seen his lifeless body in the hospital bed. She felt the warmth leaving his corpse. She was taken aback by how quickly he seemed to grow cold and how his complexion changed before Dr. Jones insisted that she had to go so that they could send the body for an autopsy. “The body.” She shivered. “The body” was her DAD. Her Dad was not a BODY. He was a man who was brave and spirited and took no crap off anyone. He called her his little spitfire because she was very much like Marcus Taggert herself—she had an innate ability to see through lies and manipulations, or just _bullshit_ , as Taggert would himself have said.

Trina decided she would make breakfast for herself and Cameron because it would get her mind on something else. Also, if food was waiting when Cameron finished his shower, he wouldn’t talk so much.

She went to the kitchen. She had been here before, but not enough to make herself at home or to know exactly where everything was. Normally, she wouldn’t have rifled through someone else’s kitchen, but she didn’t think the Baldwins would mind. She opened the refrigerator to assess the possibilities for a meal. She glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was 10:38. There was a breadbox next to a toaster. She slid the top open and saw a full loaf. She set it beside the stove. She went back to the refrigerator and opened a few drawers until she found dairy products and she took a package of cheese slices and a stick of butter, deciding grilled cheese was a perfect midmorning meal. She set the cheese and butter beside the bread.

Trina surveyed the cabinets, trying to guess which one would hold the pots and pans. She needed a skillet. The top cabinets held glasses, mugs, dinnerware, and some food products. She opened the doors of the lower cabinets and, just glancing, she didn’t see a skillet. She sighed, realizing she might have to dig through the cabinets to find what she needed. She took a few boilers out and set them on the floor beside her. No skillet. She sighed and sat on the floor so she could reach the very back of the cabinet. She continued to pull out pots and pans until she reached the back. No skillet. What household could function without a skillet? She closed the door, leaving everything scattered on the floor around her. Obviously, there was another cabinet. She opened a door and saw some cookie sheets and covered glass dishes. She methodically removed everything, starting to stack dishes on the shelves and the table. There was no skillet. Trina sighed, and walked toward the stove.

Unfortunately, her foot caught on a heavy Dutch oven, hurting her toe, and making her trip and fall. Her impact with the dish covered floor, made a clattering cacophony and she fell, her knees and palms hitting the floor. Her hands stung and her knees ached. She righted herself so that she could sit on the floor, pushing those stupid pots and pans out of her way just enough to make room for herself.

She looked at the floor and the table and the shelves. Everything was covered with dishes and she was sitting on the floor, still unable to find a damn skillet. She burst into tears as Cameron came bounding down the stairs, hair still wet.

“What happened?” he asked, sitting down beside her and wrapping her arm around her so that she could cry on his shoulder.

“I can’t find a skillet,” she wailed. “I was going to make us grilled cheese. But there’s no skillet in this house. How do you not have a skillet?”

“It’s in the dishwasher,” Cameron told her in a soft voice. The way Trina was sobbing, he was certain that it wasn’t really a skillet that had upset her. “It’s okay,” he told her. “I promise, it’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not!” Trina pulled away. “Nothing is ever going to be okay again. My dad is gone, and I can’t find a skillet because I am too stupid to open a dishwasher. I’m not ready to be without a dad, Cameron. I need him. He would have found the skillet. And he wouldn’t have moved every dish in the house trying. I’m such an idiot.”

“You are NOT an idiot!” Cameron assured her. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. And you’re brave too. Your dad loved you and he was proud of you. You meant everything to him.”

“He’s dead because of me!” Trina cried, gasping for air between sobs. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Cam told her. “If I learned anything about what happened with Franco, it’s that bad guys don’t care about hurting kids, but dads will give up their lives to protect us. Because our dads are the good guys. They’re the ones who see the bigger picture and care more about good than evil or revenge or money or territory or whatever the hell it is that motivates people like the man who shot your father.”

“I want my dad back!” Trina wailed, her chest heaving with the onslaught of tears. The grief was suffocating.

“I know,” Cameron sighed. “I know. And it sucks. And it’s not fair. But it was your dad’s decision. He valued your life more than his own. Franco didn’t know if he would come back—none of us did. That weird doctor said he wouldn’t. But he begged to take my place, Trina. He wanted to save me more than he wanted his own life. That is what your dad wanted too. He wanted YOU to live. To your dad, your life was worth more than his. You can’t blame yourself for that, Trina. Just be grateful that you’ve had someone love you like that. Do you know what a gift that is?”

Trina sniffed. “I guess I’ve taken it for granted. I thought my dad was invincible.”

“None of us are,” Cameron reminded her. They had both come so close to being murdered the night before. Staring down death, a potential bullet to his brain, he realized how quickly it could all be over. It could all change in a second. And he didn’t WANT to die. He wasn’t sure he was WILLING to die.

“Your dad…. Franco… they both knew they were facing the end, but they picked us. That is unselfishness. That is bravery. That is what a dad should be, but what a dad should never have to do.”

He pulled Trina closer with the arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay to hurt and cry and you’ll probably hurt and cry for a long time. Just keep reminding yourself that, for your dad, you were worth it. And because he was willing to give up his life for you, you have to live your life in a way to make him proud. Stay who you are, Trina—the one with the common sense. The one who isn’t afraid of anything. The one who isn’t intimidated by any kids or adults or anybody at all. That’s all just like your dad. He’s part of you and you can keep him alive by being Trina. Because saving Trina was Agent Taggert’s most important accomplishment.”

They were silent a few minutes. Finally, Trina sad, “I made a mess.”

“We needed to reorganize anyway,” Cameron said, brushing it off.

“Of course, you did,” Trina scolded. “What moron keeps a skillet in a dishwasher?”


End file.
